


dying light

by xSparklingRavenx



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Flashbacks, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSparklingRavenx/pseuds/xSparklingRavenx
Summary: On the shoreline of a dying world, they meet again for one final time.Klaus and Galea. Major spoilers for the entirety of Xenoblade 1 and Xenoblade 2
Relationships: Galatea | Galea/Klaus, Meyneth/Zanza (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	dying light

**Author's Note:**

> i really needed this out of my system. huge spoiler warning, you know the deal.
> 
> beta'd by me and me alone. if you see something odd, don't hesitate to comment on it, i appreciate it a lot!

In the dying light of a cross-shaped sun, a woman awoke.

From horizon to horizon stretched a boundless sea, the sky above scorched in red, green, and lilac tones. She drifted amidst the trembling waves, carried along by its easy caress as it handled her as careful as a mother with her child. With no direction, no obvious right way to go, she was at its mercy as it carried her across its surface, no clear destination in sight wherever she looked.

So instead, she turned her thoughts, and her gaze, back to the sky. Such an unusual sunset, she thought as the sun dipping halfway beyond the horizon. The colours were more akin to a borealis, an amalgamation of odd, contrasting tones that she was certain held more in common than their appearances would have her believe. After all, it was nothing like she’d ever seen in any natural world. Nothing like what she’d ever seen from her perch upon the Mechonis, or in any other world before that.

She continued to drift, letting the ocean take her on whatever path it deigned. She was content to simply be the passenger; there was no need to be fight it, or to try and dictate the way the waves rolled her. This was her afterlife, or, so it seemed. Surprised as she was that there was one, she didn’t question it. There were so many things she didn’t understand, and so many things she had to accept. In a very long line of oddities, this was hardly the strangest she’d ever experienced.

And yet still, the shape of that cross-like sun as it continued to dim—she’d seen it before, years and years and years ago, countless millennia gone by. It had been burned into her mind, the final thing she’d seen before her life changed irreversibly, illuminating the figure of the man she loved as he dammed them both. There were many things she’d forgotten from her life _before,_ but that would never be one of them.

Closing her eyes, she let the darkness be a comfort as she fell between the ocean’s waves, moving, moving, her body still, the air silent. In the moments of calm, she dreamt, of the Homs girl who had leant her a body, of her final moments clashing against a megalomaniacal god. War had been forever seared into her bones, into her genetic makeup. She had been born into the world fighting, and so she had left it too. Battle was all she knew, had _been_ all she’d known for too long. Now that there was a moment for peace, she was all too glad to take it.

_“This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”_

_“I wasn’t really considering it, but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal—”  
_

Echoing words, voices she could hardly untangle, her own, or the Homs girl, his, or the Heir to the Monado. Memories she’d shared had become integral to her being, feelings she’d absorbed from the girl who had melded with her heart. The woman was a goddess, but she hardly felt powerful now. Lost in the ocean, she pulled herself apart and pieced herself back together, over, over, a machine replacing its own circuits, a woman searching for her own soul. Thousands of years’ worth of experiences were layered over her past like sediment, burying the truth and all that she had known with it.

So caught up in herself was she, that she barely noticed the waves depositing her carefully on a shoreline that had not been there before. It was only when she felt sand beneath her fingers that she realised she was no longer at one with the sea, but instead, on the surface of a wet, grainy beach. Surprised at the sensation, the woman sat up, looking at her hands in mystified silence.

She stared, turning her hand to look at her palms, then back to look at her knuckles, grains of sand falling with the movement. Then she flexed her fingers, clawing them, spreading them, making a fist with her hand. Tendons moved, and she noticed veins too, as faded as they were. It was not the movement that surprised her, but the fluidity, the colour, simply how normal it looked. She had grown so accustomed to her metal skin, to her silver tones, that the uneven, peach tone of her flesh stunned her into silence.

“It is horrifying, is it not? To be returned to our own flesh and see ourselves for what we truly were?”

Her breath hitched. The voice that came from behind her was one she knew intimately; though he and the Heir to the Monado shared it, she knew it was not the boy who she would find if she turned. Taking a moment to steady herself, she stood, wet fabric clinging to her body, sleeves of a white lab coat tight around her arms, drenched strands of silver hair falling past her face. The garb of a human. The garb of someone she might have once been.

She didn’t turn. Not immediately. Fists clenched at her sides, staring out to sea, she said, “I see this is not the afterlife after all.”

“What would make you say that?”

How sad he sounded. She knew it for the lie that it was. “You are cruel beyond words, Zanza. Those children, tell me, did they fail? Is this how you would remake our world? You would drag me back after you won to do war once more?”

Silence. Only the dreamy sound of the rolling waves punctuated it, her anger not matched by that of the atmosphere. Those Homs that she’d entrusted the world to, they’d had so much hope for their future. She’d given her life to make it happen, to save the boy who would save them all, yet once again, she and Zanza had been brought back to their beginning.

Zanza said, “I understand if you would hate me, but you misjudge the situation. This isn’t that world reborn.”

There was no other explanation. It was as empty as it always was at the start. As the Mechonis, she had borne witness to a world made of nothing but endless ocean, her own body and his the only habitable spaces. They would eventually give birth to life once more, and then they would divulge into needless violence. It was their cycle. It was their way. Zanza forced her into battle and she had no choice but to fight back, only ever for her people, never for herself.

“I no longer wield a Monado,” the woman said. She loosened her fists, the tension leaking out of her as she realised the futility of it all. “You saw to that. I know not how I stand here before you, but our battle is over before it begins this time. You will sacrifice everything all over again, and there is nothing I can do to stop you. This world will be yours for the taking. Is that not what you dreamt of all along?”

“Perhaps a part of me did,” Zanza said. “But in truth, there’s something else. One other thing I’ve been dreaming of all this time.”

She closed her eyes, angered tears welling in the corners. Her remorse, for everything she’d failed to do. Her guilt. Her grief. The Heir to the Monado deserved no such fate as to be obliterated. His friends deserved to defy their passage of fate, not submit to it. “And what is that?”

“To finally face you again, Galea.”

The name struck her like an arrow through her back. Finally, she turned, the breeze catching her hair as she did, her voice stuck in her throat. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, to focus on the hazy sight before her. Hands in the pockets of a lab coat matching her own, a faint smile on a familiar pair of lips, eyes as blue as the ocean she’d borne witness to for millennia.

Those eyes widened as he laid them on her, his lips parting a fraction. For a moment, she wasn’t there, on the shoreline, but instead a hundred thousand years ago, stood in the faded memory of the gardens of a research facility, seeing him for the first time below the low branches of a weeping willow tree.

\--

The new professor was quite unlike any who had come before him. Galea had overseen several who wanted to crack open the secrets of their newfound Conduit, but none had managed to even scratch its surface—until this young man, or, so Galea had heard from her colleagues, anyway. Brilliant, alert, and yet incredibly elitist, he had apparently driven away every other assistant who had been assigned to his side.

“He has to do everything his own way,” said her friend, who waved her hands in overdramatic gestures when Galea chose to ask after him. “You’re gonna have your hands full with this one, if you even last five minutes with him.”

Galea was next in line for the role, having been begged by the higher-ups to take over the role of assistant as their last one threw in the towel. It was a mistake to say yes, and she knew it—her mother had always told her to never take a job position if she’d been passed over as the primary candidate in the first place. But she was young. She didn’t have all the time in the world to make a mark. If there was an opportunity in place, she had no choice but to grab it with both hands.

It was in the base’s gardens she found him, stood beneath a tree with one hand resting on the trunk, gazing out across the tranquil lake that bisected the grassy land in two. The ends of his white, standard-issued coat fluttered in the wind, blond strands of hair picked up and thrown about his head. Putting on her best smile, she linked her hands behind her back and went to stand next to him.

But, in her haste, she hadn’t prepared an opening statement. Unknowing what to say, she floundered for words, desperately searching for something to introduce herself with. In the end, all that came out was, “This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

He turned his head in surprise, eyes a fraction too wide, his mouth downturned a tick. “I wasn’t really considering it, but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal—” his gaze travelled downwards, and she considered retracting her comment until his line of sight snagged on her nametag attached to her breast pocket. “—Galea.”

Above them, quietly, a war raged on. Humanity had taken their conflict higher, beyond the stars themselves, but down on the earth, it was peaceful, quiet. “Yes. And you are Professor Klaus, are you not?”

He nodded, facing back towards the lake. “Am I right in thinking that you’re to be my new assistant? I recognize your name, but this would be our first meeting.”

“Our first meeting, yes, but I’ve already heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now? None of it good, I imagine.”

“I don’t tend to believe in idle gossip,” Galea said, still smiling. “I judge men on their own merits, not on the hearsay of others. As they say, seeing is very much believing.”

The breeze caressed her skin, calm and gentle. Klaus didn’t reply immediately, and when she turned to look at him, she found him still staring out at the lake. “Might I ask what you’re looking at?”

“Nothing in particular,” came his quick response, one of his hands dipping into his coat’s pocket. “I do my best thinking in the quiet, though that pursuit is ruined now, given that you’re here now. Judging men on their own merits, you said, and refusing to take part in gossip? Well. You must be fun at parties.”

“As must you, given how quick you are to turn.” Galea crossed her arms against her chest as he turned to face her once more. He was, in her view, terribly beautiful, his hair golden, his eyes soulfully blue, like if she looked too hard, she might see galaxies shining within. “Let me guess; the reason for your rudeness is because you want nothing more than to examine the Conduit by yourself. My presence is only a hindrance because of that reason—but tell me. Why? What is it about the Conduit that draws you in?”

Klaus laughed then, a bitter sound in his throat. “I want to save this world, Galea. What else? That thing, it emits so much power, if only we could access its full potential. Nobody has the acumen, the knowledge, to figure it out. But I do. I will unlock its secrets on my own, with no-one to stand in my way. And when I do, the Saviourites will fall by my hand.”

“I see,” Galea said. “So it is trite heroism that drives you.”

“Trite—!”

“But here is the issue, Klaus,” Galea cut him off, raising a finger to quieten him. “I can hardly believe in a man who I know nothing about. Your words right now are just that—words, and I haven’t seen what you can do. For all I know, I will find the path to humanity’s survival in my own research.”

“You have a lot of confidence, don’t you?” Klaus scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t need you. Or any of the others who they’ve tried to partner up with me. You’re all the same, eager to please, desperate to make some kind of mark. I don’t need that kind of overenthusiastic uselessness holding me back.”

“Uselessness? Such a strong word, considering you don’t know a thing about me!” Galea couldn’t help but be offended, planting her hands on her hips. “Well, you won’t find that ‘eagerness’ to please in me, Klaus. I’m not playing the role of your assistant to make-nice with the higher-ups, I’m doing it because the Conduit interests me, because it has so many secrets hidden within that I must know. Desperate to make some kind of mark, you say? Well. Aren’t you also? Isn’t that what you just said?”

“That’s what you took away from this conversation? That I’m ‘desperate’?”

“Indeed. But maybe you could show me that I’m wrong, if you work hard.” He tried to speak over her, but Galea raised her finger again, cutting him off soundly. “No, you’re listening to me right now. This is my proposition to you; I will be your assistant, and you will prove to me that you’re as good as you say. Then, and only then, will I have faith that perhaps you could save us all. That you could be the hero that you seem to be dreaming of being.”

Klaus’s eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t seem displeased. After a moment of what seemed like pure shock, he began to laugh. Frowning, Galea said, “I don’t see the joke.”

“I’m not the only one they gossip about in this base, you realise,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “But perhaps they were wrong, or simply shallow. I heard you were cold, stony, even. Some even called you robotic in your methods, but from what I see now, that it is untrue. You wish to share the Conduit with me? Then you need to prove something to me also. Prove to me that you’re just as worthy, and perhaps I might consider the idea that we could be able to carve out a path to a new future together.”

Galea looked back across the lake, so still, so quiet. The sun sat in its lofty throne, perfectly circular, a beacon for their earth. A sign, she thought, of better days to come. “So it is to be a challenge then, one to another? Your arrogance is as they say.”

“Arrogance?” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “How amusing. I heard many use the same word to describe you. Perhaps we’re not so different as I first thought.”

“Give it time,” Galea said. “You will see the difference.”

“Will I? I can’t say I’m disinterested. But, for now, I think it’s time for me to go.” Klaus turned, drawing her attention back to him. He retreated away from the weeping willow, his back to her, giving a careless wave goodbye as he left. “I will meet you again, when it is time for us to do our work. You’ve spoken a big game now, so, don’t let me down, Galea.”

“The same to you, Klaus,” she replied. The lake rippled in the breeze as she looked back to it, tucking a lock of silver hair back behind her ear. Their war was one they had to win, competition or no.

Alone, or together, it mattered not.

\--

He looked at her like he had that day, as if he was laying his eyes on her for the first time all over again. Blue-on-blue, human-to-human, flesh-to-flesh. He was gold, and she was silver, contrasting colours on the wheel of their world, opposite sides of the shoreline, opposite sides of their war. Her tears threatened to fall, but she did not let them.

Not yet.

“You would call me that, after everything?” she said. “I cast that woman out to sea as you so carelessly abandoned your past to rot. Do not invoke that name now, after I tried so hard to reach out to you. Do not speak to me so plainly, when you tore it all from me. I offered you peace, and you ripped it apart with your own hands.”

“Then you would prefer ‘Meyneth’?” Zanza asked. He looked so out of place, standing there like that in his human guise. The last time she’d seen him, his expression had been twisted with mania, his voice warped with delusional hatred. “You do not look very much like her to me, though.”

Something was wrong here. She searched him for any hint of a Monado, but there was no such weapon in sight. “This is treacherous, even for you. Appearing as you are, speaking to me this way—you revel in the fact that you’re breaking my heart.”

“That’s not true.” Zanza cast his gaze downwards, taking a single step across the sand. She took one backwards in response, and then another, her heels burying themselves beneath the grains as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Listen to me, Meyneth, Galea, whoever you wish to be in this moment. This is not your world, or mine, because those children you believed in succeeded. Your wish has been realised. They remade the world with their own desires, they cast out my twisted form and denied all gods.”

“How can I believe you?” Meyneth asked him. “When all has come to pass before, when you forced me into battle against you again and again, why would I believe a single word from your mouth?”

He stopped in his approach, closing his eyes. “I understand if you would hate me, for everything I’ve done.”

Hate? It wasn’t the right word for the way she felt. There was no word that could quite encapsulate the spectrum of emotions that she felt whenever Zanza entered her field of vison. They had clashed for lifetimes, sword against sword, collision in a thousand forms, a thousand conflicts.

“If what you speak is truth, then prove it.” Meyneth said.

“As someone once told me, seeing is very much believing,” Zanza said. He made a grand gesture towards the dying sun in the sky, a sweep of his arm. “The Conduit is gone. That boy, Shulk—his actions saw it so. What we are now, I couldn’t tell you, but we’re no longer the gods we once posed as. I believe—I believe that we’ve been reborn anew, one last time, in response to our own wishes, but that is mere hypothesis. I only know what my wish was, after all.”

She looked up at the sun. It did look like the Conduit, and it burned as brightly as it once had in the laboratories. “So if I am to believe what you say, then you are not Zanza. Is that it?”

“It would be easier to say yes,” Zanza said. “But it would also be a lie, and I can hardly hide from the blame that I deserve. I am recomplete. That day, when I made my decision, when I pressed that button, the Conduit tore my soul in two. Some of me ended up with you, in that world. I only regret that it was the worst of me.”

“Stop this,” Meyneth said. “You speak of another world? That you could possibly have—”

_“It is a gateway. A gateway that will take us to an entirely new world!”_

“You were right,” Zanza was looking up towards the Conduit-shaped sun for himself when she turned back, bathed in its light. “A meta-universe manifold. That was what you called it. And it was. It opened up so many possibilities, but I never should have done it. I awoke in pieces on the floor of the Rhadamanthus, half of me lost to your world, half of me still on that station. My decision was wrong. I know that now.”

She remembered the day she awoke too, the day she turned to the man she loved and saw only that crazed look in his eyes. “You never wanted peace,” she said. “First, you wanted heroism and glory. Then, you wanted immortality and devotion. You chose that over everything, even when I tried to stop you! You chose that over _me._ ”

“I never forgot,” Zanza said. He approached anew, and she didn’t step back this time. “I never forgot your voice, how you shouted that day, how you told me to stop. I never forgot how frightened you sounded, or how tightly you held onto me. And part of me, the worst part, _Zanza_ , he used that to fuel his hatred towards you. But me…”

“But you?” Meyneth stepped forwards now, the distance between them getting smaller. “Speak, Zanza. Respond to me.”

“My name is Klaus,” he said. “An arrogant man who thought he could change the future. A lonely fool who awoke to the knowledge that he’d sentenced everyone on the Rhadamanthus to death, a pathetic god who screamed your name over and over, hoping you would come and find me. I could see you through the link I shared with my body in your world. I knew everything he was doing, and I couldn’t stop him. He was _me._ I was _him._ And yet I could do nothing but wait and hope that someone would put us down. I carried the guilt of what I did for a millennia, waiting, waiting, constantly dreaming that I could one day see you again for myself.”

He closed his eyes, head ducked down low, hands in fists at his side. The Conduit’s sun grew dimmer still, the colours of the sky fading. What happened when it went out? Would their brief meeting come to an end?

Their lives were linked in the light of the Conduit. It was through it they had been reborn, been changed, been shaped. Klaus and Galea. Zanza and Meyneth. The same souls, different aliases. Humans and Gods, what became of them when there was nothing left?

Her voice would not come to her. Her mind would not work. It grew dimmer, and dimmer, and yet she didn’t know what to do.

\--

In the light of the Conduit, brilliant and blinding, they kissed for the first time.

There was nobody around to see them, nobody around to interrupt. Most of the Rhadamanthus’ staff were tucked away in their dorms, and it was only Klaus and Galea left in the lab. One thing had led to another, and now she had her back against the window of stars while their lips chased one another in hungry desperation.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pushing further into him. He pushed back, his arms around her waist, their bodies pressed so tightly together that they were almost one. The solar system was their single witness as they abandoned their work for only each other, desperate and passionate. Planets watched, their legacy to come remembered by them and them alone.

Her hands found his hair. His held onto her hips. She’d never intended for things to go this way. What had started as simple rivalry had progressed into friendship, into late-night drinks and research. Travelling to the station beyond the stars had intensified things, their quarters now closer than ever before, their time spent mostly with each other.

For what felt like hours they simply existed to express their love, surfacing for air only to return once more. She was starving for him as he was her, and it was only later, when they finally tired, that she said, “I want to be with you, Klaus.”

“When the war is over,” he said, holding her close. “When we’ve unlocked the secrets of the Conduit and saved humanity, then we can do this right.”

“Are we not already?” she asked, touching her fingertips to her swollen lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than this moment. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than when I’m with you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Klaus rested his forehead against hers. “I want to take you to dinner, or to make you dinner. I want to take you home and sleep in the same bed as you. I want to be yours, to make a thousand memories with you.”

“We can start now,” Galea said, looking directly into his eyes, drowning in the depths. “Right this moment. I don’t want to be apart from you, not now, not ever. I want to hold onto you forever, not just in my memories. I want to do something fun. Can we dance?”

“Dance?” Klaus blinked, his surprise endearing. “But we have no music.”

“We need no music.” She pulled back from him and took his hand. “Sweep me off my feet. Prove to me that your head isn’t only for science.”

Ever one to rise to the challenge, Klaus took the lead. Clumsy as he was, he was enthusiastic, the two of them clasping hands in a not-entirely dreadful imitation of a ballroom dance. Around and around they went, momentum shared, joined in a union of movement that had her grinning, that had his eyes focused on her like she was all that existed in that moment. Perhaps they _were_ all that existed. In her wildest dreams, she imagined a place for them, and them alone, untouched by war and fear, untouched by death and destruction.

“So do you believe in me now?” Klaus asked as they continued their duet, lab coats drifting with their movement. “That my head isn’t only for science?”

He dipped her low. She looked up at him, smiling. “I see it for myself, don’t I?”

So they went. So they carried on. And if she’d dared look away, dared catch sight of herself in the window’s reflection, she might have seen a future echoed in the mirror, illuminated by the Conduit itself.

A god dressed in golden tones dancing with a goddess made of steel, hand in hand, face to face. Their lips touched anew, and in the window, conflict sparked; but for Galea, all she knew in that moment was love.

\--

“This burden is mine to bear,” Zanza said. “Everything that happened to our world. Everything that happened to you. Everything I put the innocent through.”

Meyneth turned her head, looking behind her to where the sea continued to roll on in. How unassuming it was, to not know of the conflict within her heart, to not understand and respond to her thoughts, her feelings. The sky had morphed into dusky tones, violets and emeralds and scarlets. She had the feeling they were running out of time, but she couldn’t explain why.

“You said you have a hypothesis,” she said, still looking out over that deep blue. “You believe the Conduit granted us one last wish each?”

“It is what I did for the world I came from,” Zanza replied. “After I had given up hope, a boy came to me with his friends and showed me there was still more to life than death. Perhaps the Conduit took pity on us. I for one know I’m pitiable.”

Such fascinating words coming from the mouth of the god who had decried anything that came beneath him. “Then what was your wish?”

“Have I not already told you?” His tone spoke volumes of his surprise. “It was to see you one last time, Galea. To beg your forgiveness.”

“Prove it to me,” she whispered. “Prove that you’re not him. Prove to me that you’re Klaus, not Zanza.”

“Done,” he said, and she heard his voice shatter on that single word. “I love you, Galea, more than the earth, more than the stars, more than anything. And I was wrong to choose the Conduit over you, I was wrong to submit us to destruction, and though I know forgiveness is out of reach for me, I needed to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Finally, her tears ran free. She blinked hard as they ran down her cheeks, and, cruel illusion or no, she could hold it back no longer. He was right there, the man she’d searched for in the eyes of a crazed god, looking at her like she was the world, and it broke her in two. She ran to him, arms outstretched, and he caught her as she collided with him. Together, they went down in the sand with a _whumph,_ a flutter of coats and a mess of sobs. He pressed his lips to hers, and she let him in, responding lightly, her hands shaking as she clung to his back, his fingers gripping the back of her coat just as tightly.

“I searched for you within him for so long,” she said as they broke apart, as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. She shook off Meyneth like a snake shedding skin, searching deep within herself for the woman she might once have been. “Take me back to the start, Klaus. Let us begin again.”

“I would give anything to do that,” he said. The sky darkened further overhead. “But I fear this is all the time we have left.”

“No,” Galea lifted her head to look him in the eye. “If we are to be reborn again in the light of the Conduit or not, know that I will find you, no matter what it takes, because I never stopped searching, not even in our darkest hours.”

“And I will find you, Galea,” he said, one hand brushing against her hair. He closed his eyes and smiled. “This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Breathless, tearful, Galea found it in her to smile; genuine and true. Her words echoed his of countless years ago. “I hadn’t noticed—but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal.”

The sun continued to die. The sky grew darker still, the colours fading from sight one-by-one, yet it mattered not to the lovers who had reunited in their final moments. They remained amidst the grains of sand, hand-in-hand, awaiting the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished DE the other day and frankensteined this together out of my huge 100k word prequel novel project from 2018 that I never got to finish.. As such, it has a lot of headcanons, bc this has been my forever OTP. I'd have rather been able to write a much longer fic that could fill in the gaps properly, but fanfiction isn't really something I have a lot of time for anymore, though, and I really wanted to do something for these two. With that said, I hope you enjoyed this small story! Their dynamic here was quite difficult to portray, as I didn't want Klaus to be totally blameless (as Zanza IS still a part of him) and I didn't want Galea to excuse something so serious as the fact he warred with her either. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> Oh yeah, I remember watching a video some time ago with a theory in it about how Klaus and Galea might be like Fei and Elly from Xenogears, in that they may end up being reincarnated etc in the future bc of the Conduit...that fuelled the ending, so take it how you will :3


End file.
